


Meeting The Parent (Original Work)

by ASomeonePerson, NotAnImportantPerson



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Parents, Assassins, Gen, Medieval, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22196488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASomeonePerson/pseuds/ASomeonePerson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAnImportantPerson/pseuds/NotAnImportantPerson
Summary: In the big bad world, bad things happen behind closed doors. Walandra, a stone-hearted assassin with a snarky grin and angry eyes, knows this as well as anyone else. What happens when their little group runs into a woman who gives her chills, and her equally aggressive companion notices? Only time will tell.
Relationships: None
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Meeting The Parent (Original Work)

**Author's Note:**

> This contains mentionings of child abuse, some forms of ptsd and things like that. This is the warning that if you are uncomfortable with things like that, or they cause flashbacks of your own, to read at your own risk.

The sun sent warm golden rays down to the land below, touching the faces of many with heated fingers. Days such as this always had the aura of being perfect, that your nightmares would end and some kind of fairy tale would begin. The cobblestone streets letting out soft taps as shoes and horse hooves hit it in time, the soft rattling of the carriages as they passed. The clucking of the birds overhead, or the far-off growling of the street dogs as they fought over scraps. The slapping feet of bare-foot children. It seemed surreal, the shards of light spearing through the air like glass. Almost as if everything dark and evil on the earth had been wiped away, leaving only the good things and the lovely people. Leaving only good memories to think back on, and only good moments to have.

The world, however, was not so kind.

Through the throng of people strode four females. Two women, two teens. Orbs of curious colors moving over the crowd in a forcefully lazy manner, bodies stuck in slouched postures to force boredom. 

"Stop dawdling," hushed vocals drawled out, carmine orbs meeting in a short glaring contest. 

"I'm merely looking at the truly _wonderful_ options of purchase, Ezhno." The other replied, blinking almost lazily. Her long white hair was tied back in a braid, the few strands that had slipped from it framing her angular features. 

"We're here for a specific purchase, Walandra. I'm sure you remember, unless it managed to slip your mind?" The black-heared female bit back, eyes narrowing with irritation as the other merely gave her a sneer. "Don't make stupid faces when you don't know what to say." She snapped, turning and continuing to stalk through the crowd.

Walandra merely rolled her eyes in return, shifting her hands to become snug within her pockets. She disliked outings, disliked them very much. The crowds of pampered men and women crushing in on all sides, trapping her in a cage. Smells flooding together until her head spun, colors flashing in all their blindingly bright shades. It caused a headache to pound against her temple, even as she raised a dainty hand and massaged her fingers against it, brows furrowed and a frown tugging at her lips. 

"Walandra!" The voice caused her to freeze, body tensing and stilling as she pivoted on her heel. Running towards her was a young women, two years younger than herself. Onyx hair flying, and crystalline blue orbs flashing as she was embraced. The older remained still for a moment, before wrapping her arms around the younger.

"Maganda?" She questioned, holding the younger woman at arms length, running a critical gaze over her body. The other was clad in a gown of pure white, manicured brows raising in her excitement. Another voice called out her name, golden hair and doe-brown orbs flashing in the light as another woman, this one only a year younger than herself, flung her arms around her neck. They wore matching dresses, which marked them as ladies-in-waiting. To which high-ranking noblewoman did they attend? Well, at least they weren't servants any longer, which is the rank they had become when she had dropped them off at a... 'friend' of hers' manor. 

"Pulchra? What are you two doing here?" She questioned, cocking her head to the side. She regarded them carefully, nostrils flaring slightly. They hadn't changed much, beyond filling out as young women do. Their scents of flowers had mingled slightly with some lovely perfume. The excitement in their faces vanished for a heartbeat, almost too quick for her to notice. Whatever was happening, it appeared, would be somewhat damaging to at least one of them.

"We're meeting with our mother." Pulchra said slowly, eyes searching Walandra's face for a flicker of emotion. Her face was stony, however, as she tensed her muscles to refrain from staggering. Their _mother?_

"Why?" She questioned, voice hoarse as it attempted to squeeze out of her tightening throat. "No, no. Not important. How?" She spoke quickly, eyes now searching the crowd. Their mother was _bad._ She... she had disappeared when they were younger. Walandra had barely turned fifteen, and had had to take her sisters to a young lord she knew in the area from her nightly adventures. Good lord above, how did they think it would be a good idea?

"W-We mentioned to Chase- Er, Lord Saroka, that we missed our mother very much. He requested her name, so that he might find her." Maganda began, also turning to search the faces of the gathered ladies. 

"He said that he had found her, and that we would meet her here. She should be here any second." Pulchra finished, taking a step back as Walandra straightened, blinking.

She needed to _leave._ If she saw her mother again... she wasn't sure what she would do. She didn't doubt that she was angry enough to kill her, even in such a public place. If she didn't, she might just- No, she couldn't think about the alternative. Breaking down, especially _here_ of all places, would be a trip to hell. Ezhno would never let her live it down, she decided, and sent a sweet smile at her sisters. 

"Well, as much as I would _love_ to meet with our dearest mother again, I am here for my own business and must leave-" She began, taking a hesitant step back. At least she knew her sisters were _safe._ They were okay. What she didn't expect, however, was a hand on her shoulder as she took that step back. Manicured nails dug into her muscular shoulder, causing her to whirl around, finding a woman standing behind her. 

A face that matched none of her daughters was staring down at her, eyes that were once a lovely mixture of doe-brown and honey-golden were as vibrant as a dead flower as they sent her a withering glare. Walandra practically shrunk under that look, face paling. The nails dug in deeper, as if to keep her to backing away. She wouldn't have dared to, regardless. Her mother was wearing a dress of a lovely pink, reacting with her tan skin. Her golden hair was done in a nice manner, curls being painstakingly placed over her features. The look would have been much nicer on Pulchra, the daughter who took mostly after their mother.

"Hello, dearest daughters." The woman crooned, voice laced with venom as she kept her cold gaze upon Walandra, whom had bowed her head and was glaring at her boots. Now was not the time nor place to start an argument, or to cause a scene. She sent a desperate glance to her siblings, but their gazes were filled with wonder and love as they watched their dam. Had they forgotten the years of torture she had endured, the years of trying and failing to gain even a speck of her mothers love? Why were the not questioning the woman on where she had gone?

"Hello, mother. You look..." Walandra searched for the words, tongue-tied. _Repulsive, horrific, terrifying_ and words such as that filtered through her thoughts, and she had to swallow to stop one of them from blurting from her lips. "Exquisite." She finally finished, words short and clipped. Her mother deserved nothing beyond pleasantries. 

"Oh, thank you, Walandra! You look positively... masculine. Why don't you wear a dress, or at least a tunic that isn't so... dark?" The woman raised her chin, as if she were better than the white-haired female. It made her sick to her stomach.

She felt like throwing up.

She felt like throwing up. 

She felt like throwing up.

Why did it appear that it was only her that was having memories of the _hours_ spent arguing with this wretched woman? Why did it seem to be only her that was remembered every single flash of pain this woman had given her, recalling every wound and scar that now marred her body? 

"Why are you ignoring me, Walandra?" Her mothers sickly sweet words trickled into her ears, past the drone of voices from the people around them. It made rage ignite within her, even as she flickered her gaze up to meet her dams. That anger was quickly drowned by fear, and a sneer, her go-to expression to hide the emotions in her eyes, overtook her features.

"Maybe I don't want the opinion of a conniving harlot." She spat in reply, regretting the words instantly. The nails dug deeper, and she could have sworn pierced her flesh, because she could feel them in between her muscles, desperately reaching to touch her bones. Terror overtook everything that she was, making her knees weak and body instantly relax. It made the blood drain from her face, made her eyes widen like a scared animal as her heart threw itself backwards to hide behind her spine.

The woman frowned at her, raising her other hand. It was covered with rings, and Walandra instantly knew it was going to hurt, no matter what happened. She closed her eyes, leaning as far away from the hand as she could as she heard the air move. She heard the noise of skin meeting skin, of her own skin ripping open, before she felt the blinding pain. Her mother had backhanded her, in the middle of a crowded place, her bulky rings cutting into Walandra's pale cheek. The force of the blow made her stagger, and she was positive she was going to fall. Was going to fall in front of everyone- Suddenly, Enola was beside her. How long had the apprentices been watching? 

Enola grabbed her arm, holding her upright, gazing at her with concern. She could feel the hot, wet blood sliding down her cheek, down her jaw, down her throat. It sickened her as she slung an arm over the teenagers shoulder, Fala Flo grabbing her other arm to keep her upright. 

She was definitely going to throw up now. 

Ezhno was suddenly there, the air moving around her as if she had moved at the speed of sound. A fury that Walandra had never seen before twisted her features, and the white-haired woman instantly feared that it was directed at her as Ezhno regarded her, mouth a tight line. She shrank back, Ezhno's carmine orbs widening before flashing with that undying anger as she rounded upon Walandra's mother. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her muscular figure standing taller than the older woman. Why was Ezhno so angry? Surely the woman didn't care enough about her to fight her battles _for_ her. 

"If you touch Walandra again, I swear to whatever gods your believe in I break every bone in your body, rip out your eyes and shove them down your throat so that you can watch as I slowly disembowel you." The onyx-haired woman said slowly and carefully, words chosen specially to see the fear flash across Walandra's mother's face. Walandra detached herself from Fala, motioning that the apprentice grab Ezhno. They didn't need a brawl between an assassin and a pampered lady, not here. She didn't doubt that Ezhno meant every word she said, didn't doubt that Ezhno would kill her dam because of whatever rage was burning within her. 

Fala's slim hands gently placed themselves upon Ezhno's arm, and the woman slowly relaxed. Her gaze remained hard, even as she ran it over their surroundings. Many people had paused to watch, to listen. The carmine-eyed female turned to Walandra and Enola, motioning that they follow as she led the way back to their residence, Walandra now being able to walk by herself.

~

It was nearly sunset, the glowing orb of gold having not even touched the horizon yet. Walandra had seated herself on the plat part of the roof of their manor, legs drawn to her chest, shoulders hunched. Her mother had given her quite a wound, those bulky rings aiding in that. Lines marred her face, red and aggravated. She was lucky, she supposed, that none had taken out chunks of flesh. 

Footsteps behind her notified her of a presence, the scent being that of Ezhno. She had hardly spoken to the woman since she had threatened to kill her mother in a very, very brutal manner if she touched Walandra again. Neither of them spoke, enveloped in silence, as the older woman took a seat beside her, legs dangling over the side, arms behind her. Walandra didn't even want to look at her companion, but managed to find her voice. It was strained as she whispered the words, as if fearing another would hear them. 

"Thank you."

"For what?" Ezhno replied, voice equally quiet. In that moment, she seemed vulnerable, as if showing that she cared for Walandra were a moment of weakness that she couldn't afford, but was willing to go through. 

"For stepping between us. I- She-" Walandra trailed off, sucking in a deep, shaky breath. Her eyes fluttered closed, lips in a tight line. She refused to cry, especially in front of Ezhno.

"You... 'Andra, you looked like a frightened animal." She whispered, lips hardly moving. "You were pale, and you... you had this rage in your eyes that was being drowned by a never ending fear. And- And then she... she _hit_ you, and you stumbled like you were going to fall. I... I became to _angry_ that it was Enola and Fala that reacted first, not me. If you hadn't gotten Fala to grab me, I think I would have killed her then and there."

There was a long pause, as if Walandra was finding words to reply with.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why?'"

"Why get angry over... over something so inconsequential to you? Why get angry to protect _me_ of all people, Ez?"

"Because... good lord I never thought I'd be saying this, but I _care_ about you, Andra. And she- and she _hurt_ you, and it just... it set me off, to see you so _terrified_ of her. Who was she, anyway?"

"My mother." Walandra replied, almost carelessly as she shrugged her shoulders. "An evil, conniving woman who didn't know how to raise the three daughters she bore. Loved my sisters to death, though. So that's all I can ask for." She added, bringing her knees closer to her.

"What did she do to you, to make you so scared of her?"

"Anything and everything she could bring herself to do." Walandra spoke with a bitter laugh, voice high and sweet, with a hint of crazy. "Verbally fighting me, hitting me, sometimes burning me. Backhanding me with rings on, kicking me out of the house... You name it." 

"Dear lord. I knew... I knew your mother was a bad parent but... gods above I didn't know she had done all of that to you." Ezhno seemed genuinely... surprised? "You turned out almost concerningly well, given that you had such a psychotic mother."

"You get some, you lose some. Some are born in cottages on hills, some are born in castles, some are born on the streets. It's the way life works." She replied, gently running a finger over the wound on her face. She felt the tears well up, and sting her eyes at the pain that rang out, but she blinked them away. 

"I didn't know you were scared of me," Ezhno said after a moment. Walandra let out another brutally bitter laugh. 

"It wasn't _you_ in particular. It was... it was the anger in your eyes. I thought it was at me at first. I didn't realize that you were angry at _her._ " 

"Why on _earth_ would I be angry at you after seeing that?"

"I don't know... My mind is a strange place when in fear." Walandra replied, tilting her head to rest her uninjured cheek on her knees. Ezhno didn't seem to know what to say, and Walandra was just grateful for the companionship. For not being alone in such a time, when her mind was plagued by terror. She smiled in an almost fond manner after a few heartbeats of silence, before she whispered out a few words.

"If you tell anyone about this, Ezhno, I'll behead you."

"I would expect nothing different. It's good to have the old Walandra back."


End file.
